


Winter In Moscow

by ScribblesInTheMargins



Series: My Name is Yuri [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Gen, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesInTheMargins/pseuds/ScribblesInTheMargins
Summary: Shortly after moving to Moscow, Yuri has his first day of school.Yuri wants a lot of things.  To go to his real home, his mama to stop crying, his papa to come back.  Is being called Yuri really that much to ask?





	Winter In Moscow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wis the first prompt in the 'bear' bingo event on the 18+ on ice YOI server.  
Prompt - Bathroom Stall

Winter in Moscow.

The wind whipped through the streets as Yuri clutched his grandfather's hand. Today was the first day of school. Well, not the first day of school, but the first day of school at his _new_ school. He lived at Deda's house now, and it was really good -- but it wasn't his old house. He missed his room where he had had posters of tigers on his walls. His new room was covered in fancy wallpaper and he wasn't allowed to put anything up on the walls. It was OKay. He tried to not complain. He really wanted to go to his real home.

"Do you think mama will walk me to school tomorrow?" He looked up his grandfather, the man towering over him as that strong hand held onto his mitten. He loved his grandfather so much. The man was always so kind, and he never yelled, and anytime Yuri said he was hungry, his grandfather always found food for him. Visting his Deda was amazing, but living here -- it wasn't home.

"Maybe she will, Yuratchka. Maybe. If not, I will." The man smiled, those soft blue eyes looking down at his grandson with nothing but love and softness.

"I hope she feels better." He didn't know exactly why his mother was spending all of her time in her room crying, or why they had moved to Moscow to live with his grandfather. What he did know was not to mention his father. The last time he had asked where his Papa was, it had made his mother cry even harder.

"She will, with time. What I want you to do is just do your best at school. Listen to your teachers and be on your very best behavior."

"If I do, can I go skating after school?" He loved skating. It was one of the only things he did for fun. He knew how to make fishes frontwards and backward. He knew how to bunny hop. He could skate on just his right foot. He could almost skate on just his left foot. With a little more practice, he was certain he'd even learn to do loopy loos.

"We will see, Yuratchka." With that, Yuri was led into the school where his grandfather spoke to an older woman in a big office. Then, still with his backpack over both shoulders, he was led down the hall.

"Yuri, you are going to be in Mrs. Morazova's class."

Not having any idea if that was good or bad, Yuri just nodded. He was doing his best to be good, and being good meant being attentive when adults talked to you.

He was led into a classroom, and everyone stopped, looking up at him. There were probably fifteen other children in the class, all of them about Yuri's age -- but Yuri was pretty sure he was the shortest.

He was looking at all of these new faces as the woman who brought him here spoke to the teacher, and then Yuri was left there, his backpack and jacket still on as the rest of the class looked at him as he stood by the blackboard.

The teacher, Mrs. Morazova smiled sweetly. "Class, this is Yuri Nikolaevich Plisetsky. Since we already have a Yuri in the class, we're going to call you Yuri P."

"Bu…" Before Yuri could actually make any sort of a protest, the entire class had recited 'Good Morning Yuri P' at him, and he was left there, staring at them.

By the time he reached his seat, he heard the first whispers from behind him, "Know what the P stands for? Pizda. It's Yuri Pizda." 

Yuri wasn't sure what Pizda meant, but he was positive that it wasn't good.

He tried to be good. He sat in his desk and he did his very best to pay attention to Mrs. Morazova, but everyone around him kept whispering. As the morning wore on, he sunk lower and lower into his desk. He didn't belong here. He missed his real school with his real friends -- not this place.

Eventually, it was lunchtime, and Yuri knew how it would go. No one would want to sit with the new kid. As he sat down on the end of a table, a kid from the other side stood up, grabbing his food to move. "Eww! It's Pizda!"

"That's not my name!" Yuri didn't care that he was yelling. He didn't want to be here. "My name is Yuri!"

He didn't know how it happened. He was so used to being smaller, he didn't hold back. His fist connected with the other boy's face even as he felt a punch to his own side. He threw a left and then a right. He didn't know how many there were or how he got away.

The school was new, he didn't know where anything was. He couldn't even remember the way back. All he could do was run, finding a bathroom door to throw himself through and then hiding in a bathroom stall as he locked it. All he could do was cry there, alone. His name was Yuri … he was five years old. He lived with his grandfather and mother in Moscow.


End file.
